


Little Birds and Black Panthers

by chlorineandcoffeestains (AdrenalineRevolver)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:10:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrenalineRevolver/pseuds/chlorineandcoffeestains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A party and Jehan might have dreamed it</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Birds and Black Panthers

**Author's Note:**

> this is the start of an idea or a drabble I am not sure.

Jehan met him at a party. It was held within the first few days of university students pouring in and apparently had been a tradition since before the oldest student's time. All the artist, the outcasts, the girls with rainbows in their hair and the boys that wore bow ties with everything they could. Jehan had found out about it by simply being in the right place at the right time in a small cafe in old town. The party was held in the same area in a house squeezed between that cafe and a vintage clothing store which was tailored to the hipster population on campus. 

The location fitted the crowd. Jehan wove through art majors reuniting, girls with fresh flowers in their hair like tiaras, young adults with multicolored drinks, and boys with paint smeared under longer, wilder hair. He felt like it was a modern fairy court with the summer crowd in full celebration of fall's coming. He felt apart, isolated from the jubilation. It wasn't that he minded though, watching the stories around him was enough. 

The room he settled in was on the main floor and the heat had driven him to a window seat and away from the mass of swaying figures in search of a cool breeze. The music pounded steadily and it turned into a heartbeat for the room. He took out a purple pen and wrote the first lines of a sonnet on his arm, winding the words around like a vine. A low voice read the finished lines and Jehan started. He didn't turn to face the breath on his ear but his eyes managed to catch a hint of dark jeans and sleek red shoes. 

Jehan moved his hand again, a line about a stranger with a velvet voice whispering poems into his ear. The voice in question laughed. It was one of those controlled laughs, deep and rich, and low, and sent chills down Jehan's back. He liked the feel of that laugh. The stranger moved then from the wall to standing in Jehan's line of vision, "Let's not be strangers then, little bird." 

Jehan met the gaze of his new distraction. Even in this crowd the boy stood out. For one, he was taller but not in the beanpole way of Jehan's cousin's but lean and filled out. Black hair was slicked back and his lips were a red Jehan, who collected the paint chips at Benjamin Moore, could not place. The other boy was dressed to impress, like the other students on return from a summer break, but he was more elegant. Jehan thought he looked like a panther in blacks and greys and a red rose design on his shirt. He itched to write, to form words about this person but he just continued to stare, mouth open and eyes unmoving from the stranger's. 

The other boy moved Jehan's legs over so he could share a seat with him on the window sill. The other boy produced a sobranie cocktail as if from thin air, "You smoke?" 

Jehan lowered his head and grinned, "Only when pretty boys offer me one." He took it with grace and watched the other boy light it for him. There was a saying Jehan loved, man could never grow tired of watching fire burn or water fall, and this boy was like fire. Jehan could watch him for a while. 

Once the boy had lit his, Jehan held it between his teeth and grabbed the other boy's arm. Purple would clash with the grey scale but Jehan scribbled a line on the inside of the boy's wrist, "his dark eyes dared me with danger but sparks flew like flame to a paper." 

The panther smiled when he read the lines, "I have a name you know." 

"Most do," Jehan spoke, "but they say a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet." 

"Are you always this forward?" 

"Are you always dressed so elegant?" 

The taller boy took Jehan's pen and empty right arm. His handwriting was sharp and bold on Jehan. One word and ten figures. As Jehan raised his arm to read it the boy disappeared. Montaparnesse 5409037261


End file.
